Primary Storm

by Brendan DuBois

  "I'm Lewis," I said, getting a brief handshake from the both of them. "And before we start talking politics, let's talk practical for a moment. How did you two get down here to my house?"

  "We walked," Julia said, her voice a bit reproachful. “We were dropped off at the beach at ten this morning by our Tyler coordinator to canvass the neighborhoods, but nobody knew that most of the places here are closed for the winter. So many empty cottages and buildings ... it was spooky as hell."

  "Where are you from?"

  James said, "I'm from Pennsylvania, and Julia's from Florida. We're taking a year off from Amherst to campaign for the congressman. Sir, if you'd take a moment to look at the pamphlet and understand where ---"

  But I was still paying attention to his friend, who had unbuttoned her coat and was looking around my house, and I thought I saw a furtive sniff. I thought of what she had said and I asked, "When did you last eat?"

  James, a bit defiant, said, "We had lunch, some sandwiches and ---"

  Julia looked right at me and said, "We're starved."

  He turned to her and said, "We still have some canvassing to do and ---"

  I opened the door for his benefit. "Look out there," I said. "See that snow? You try to walk back up my driveway, there's a good chance you'll wander off and fall into some rocks or boulders. Maybe even get drenched by a wave. And this time of night, there's not many locals out there who are going to want to talk to you."

  "Sir," Julia said, "if we could stay for just a bit, we'd be very grateful"

  About two minutes earlier I had known where this was going, but it still didn't make me feel particularly happy. I was doing the right thing, but as I closed the door, I also knew the Lafayette House was not in my plans tonight. We spent a while in the kitchen, as I went through what I had in the pantry, freezer, and refrigerator, and as James took charge and vetoed almost everything and anything that was meat-related, dairy-related, or was processed in some way. Finally, Julia said, "Oh, for God's sake, just shut up and let the man feed us. If you can make us a veggie omelet or something, that would be great."

  James started to ask me whether the eggs were free-range or not, when I heard a thumping noise, and turned to hide a smile, knowing Julia had kicked her companion from underneath the countertop.

  As my omelet pan made its second appearance of the day, James kept up a running conversation about his life, about volunteering for the Congressman Wallace campaign, and about his goals for his life and that of the congressman. From his talk I knew he was an intense young man, with a passion for what he was doing, for not once did he mention Julia or inquire about my own political beliefs.

  Even while they were eating, the fairly one-sided conversation continued, and once, while James was swallowing part of his meal, I caught Julia's attention and winked at her. That earned me a smile, a fair exchange.

  But James had missed it all.

  "The way I see it," he said, wiping up his plate with a piece of toast, "once the congressman gets to the White House, he's going to need us volunteers to move down there and keep the pressure up. That's the only way things will change. It will be a permanent campaign, day after day, week after week. We volunteers will move to D.C. and keep visiting the offices of the senators, and the congressmen, and the lobbyists, and we'll tell them that enough is enough. That change is coming, whether they like it or not."

  "That sounds like a good idea," I said carefully. "But you're going to need to win a primary or two before you get there."

  James smiled. "Don't you worry. We're going to win here next Tuesday, and win big, and that'll be the story of the year."

  "The polls seem to say otherwise."

  "The polls," James said. "Ha. First of all, they call people based on whether they've voted in the past. They don't count new voters. That's a good chunk right there, because Congressman Wallace has inspired hundreds and thousands of people who've never voted before. The pollsters also ignore those people who have cell phones, who are off the regular phone grid. Those people never get counted. And third, most polls are owned and operated by the big news media corporations. It's in their best interest to underestimate the support of Congressman Wallace."

  "Why is that?" I asked, picking up the dishes.

  "Because they know if the word gets out that Congressman Wallace's campaign is catching fire, is gaining support from the real people in this country, then the secret powers in this country, the corporations and their bought-and-paid-for politicians, will realize their time is over. That there's going to be big changes, real big changes, after the election. Read the pamphlet, Lewis, it's all in there. Sixty days. That's all he'll need to change this country."

  Julia was keeping quiet, and I had the sense she had listened to this earnest screed about a half million times before. I started washing the dishes and James, taking my silence for encouragement, went on. "Sixty days after the inauguration. Two months, and at the end of two months, we're going to eliminate all forms of racism and sexism and ageism and ableism in government. We're also going to bring all the troops home, have free health care for everyone, free education, right up to college and graduate school, a new energy policy that considers people before profits, and a revised welfare program for the young and the old, and everyone else in between."

  "That sounds great," I said. "How do you think it'll get paid for?"

  "Taxes," he said. "That's the way all societies take care of their people."

  "I see," I said. "And do you pay taxes?"

  James said, "Ha! To this oppressive regime? The hell I do. Besides, there's other ways to pay for what the people need. If we bring all our troops home, then we won't be instigating other peoples to hate us. Then you don't need a military. There's billions of dollars right there. And then there's the space program."

  I paused in my dishwashing. 'What about the space program?"

  He made a dismissive noise. "Billions and billions ... spent for what? To send military pilots in space? To get pretty pictures? To find out what kind of rocks are on Mars or the moons of Jupiter?"

  I guess it's a tribute to the way I was brought up by my parents that the young man continued to sit at the counter, and wasn't trying to breathe snow while having been tossed headfirst into a nearby snowbank. Julia looked at me and I could tell that she knew her companion had hit home with that last remark, and she said, "There's other causes Congressman Wallace is fighting for that don't mean money being spent."

  "Sure!" James said, still charged up. "There's laws that need to be passed as well. Lots of different laws, like a law to eliminate heteronorminism, for example."

  While this new recitation was going on, Julia came around the counter, wordlessly picked up a dish towel, and started drying the plates and silverware.

  "I'm sorry," I said, also picking up a dishcloth. "I didn't recognize the last word you used. Heteronorminism."

  "Sure," he said, as if eager to teach an oldster like myself something new. "You see, society and the way it projects itself in the media and advertising promotes the lifestyle of heterosexuality as the only acceptable sexual lifestyle there is. Heteronorminism. That leads to oppression and hate crimes and discrimination. What the congressman and others propose to do is to ensure that advertising and other media outlets do their part in recognizing other sexual identities, through a quota system. That way, by educating people as to what's really out there, you remove the fear. Remove the fear, you remove discrimination and the possibility of hate crimes."

  I opened the cabinet, started putting the dry dishes away as Julia handed them over to me. "So ... if gays make up five percent or ten percent of the population, you'd require that five or ten percent of advertising depict gay people in the commercials?"

  He laughed at me. "See! Right there, that's a perfect example of heteronorminism. You automatically assume that sexuality is divided into two classes: heterosexuality and homosexuality. But there's so many others ... trans gender, preop transgender, transvestism, gender-neutr
al, and of course, the different classes within the leather community. It's a very diverse subject."

  "Of course," I said, fighting hard to keep my face straight.

  "And your role is to educate the voters in New Hampshire as to the congressman's position regarding advertising and the different classes within the leather community."

  "Among other things," James said. "No offense, Lewis, and really, I hope you don't take offense, but it's amazing that such a small, overwhelmingly white and reactionary state like this one has such an enormous influence in choosing our next president. It really is outrageous, once you think about it. And it makes our job so much harder."

  I dried my hands and Julia went back around to the counter, and I said, 'Well, lucky for us white reactionaries that you and so many others have volunteered their time to educate us correctly."

  Julia raised a hand, to hide a smile, I'm sure, and James nodded and said without a trace of irony, "You are so right, Lewis. So right."

  By now the snow was really coming down, and the wind off the ocean was making the windows rattle. I went to the door and managed to open it a bit, and the cold wind was sharp on my face and hands. Visibility was about three feet, if that. "No offense, guys, but I really think you need to spend the night here."

  James said, "Don't you have a car or SUV that can get us up that driveway?"

  Julia said, her voice tinged with sarcasm, "You're being silly, James. Would you really ride in that? What about your core beliefs?"

  "All I'm saying is that ---"

  “James."

  I closed the door and said, "Look. I'll build a fire in the fireplace, unfold the couch into a sleeper, and in the morning, after the storm breaks and the plows have gone out, I'll give you a ride to your Tyler canvassing coordinator, or anyplace else you'd like."

  Julia smiled. She had faint dimples, and if I had been James, I would have ditched the Congressman Wallace for President campaign in a second for the opportunity to see that smile again.

  "Thank you," she said. "That'll be wonderful."

  But James didn't seem that happy. "Well ... if I can use your phone, I guess that'll be all right."

  So a fire was built and I folded out the couch, and brought down blankets and sheets and pillows, and Julia was quiet again, and I offered to turn on the television and James proudly said, "Haven't watched television in sixteen months and don't plan to start up again tonight," and I left them to figure out sleeping and other arrangements.

  Upstairs I washed up and went to my own bed, and looked out the window for a moment. I supposed I could wait until they fell asleep and then sneak out of my own house, to make my way in the storm to the Lafayette House.

  But ... there were now too many variables. How to explain to these two volunteers why their host was trudging out in the middle of a storm? And how to explain my sudden presence at the Lafayette House, when every other sane person was sticking close to home? And I hadn't been exaggerating when I'd told the two how dangerous it could be, to try to walk out at night so close to the ocean and the shoreline. Two winters before, during the Super Bowl, a drunk football enthusiast, not wanting to stand in line at the Lafayette House to use the men's room, had stumbled outside to do his duty. He was found about a month later, wedged in some boulders a half mile up the coast, no doubt still legally drunk but also quite dead.

  So another day would have to pass. I got undressed and slipped into bed, and picked up my trusty biography of Winston Churchill, and wondered if I had ever been that dense or idealistic when I had been James's and Julia's age.

  Idealistic, perhaps, but I hoped never that dense. I read for about a half hour, listening to whispers and once a loud giggle from downstairs, before switching off the light and going to sleep, quickly wondering how Barbara and I must have sounded to our professors and older acquaintances, way back then in college.

  The voice woke me up. "Lewis?"

  I rolled over, sat up in bed. In the dim illumination of the clock and small night-light in the bathroom, I made out the form of someone at the foot of my bed.

  "Julia?”

  "Can ... can I come over for a sec?"

  "Sure."

  Julia came over and sat down on the edge of the bed. I rubbed my face and said, 'What's wrong?"

  "It's ... it's ... oh, I'm sorry," and she started sobbing.

  "Hey," I said, touching her shoulder. "Hold on, hold on, what's wrong?"

  She wiped her eyes and said, "I'm sorry to dump this on you. Really. But can you help me?"

  "What do you need?"

  She sobbed. "Oh, Lewis, I want to go home!"

  "Shhh, it's okay," I said. "Campaigning not working out for you?"

  "Oh God, you don't know what it's like," she said, almost blubbering. "We sleep on floors or chairs ... the food is awful ... and I've never been so cold in all my life, and we spend so much time outside. The staff work us so hard and so many people hang up the phones or slam the doors in our faces or throw our pamphlets on the ground ... and there's always more to do and I should be home, getting ready for second semester and I ... want to go back home. I don't want to do this anymore."

  "So why did you come here in the first place?"

  "James," she said, practically hissing the word. "He made it sound so special, so romantic, so idealistic. Be part of an awakening movement, a community to change the world ... He didn't say anything about cold pizza and no hot showers and dirty bathrooms. And he's ... well, you saw how he is. So full of himself. So righteous. I mean" --- and she giggled, a welcome change ---"educating the average New Hampshire voter about Congressman Wallace and the leather community ... he didn't even know you were making fun of him."

  I looked at the time: 1:00 A.M. "I shouldn't have done that, but the temptation was too great. So. Why not go home? What's stopping you?"

  In the faint light I saw her fold her arms, and she seemed to shrink into the frame of a twelve-year-old girl. "I told you he was idealistic ... he can also get very angry if he doesn't think you believe in anything. That you're willing to compromise. And I get scared when he gets angry. I .. , I really get scared, and I don't know what he might do. Once I was upset that we went a whole day without eating and I told him that I wouldn't do that anymore .. , and he tugged my arm something awful ... It hurt for two days. Do ... do you think you can help me?"

  I scratched the back of my head. "Across the way is a hotel called the Lafayette House. There's a shuttle service that'll take you into town tomorrow, to a newspaper store that's the local Greyhound stop. You can even buy the bus ticket at the hotel so there's no waiting at the store. And in an hour's time you'll be in Boston. From there I'm sure you can catch a flight or a bus ride home. That good enough?"

  "Yes, yes, it is ... but what about James?"

  "You let me worry about James. You just worry about getting home. Got enough money?"

  "Yes, that's not a problem."

  "How about belongings? Luggage?"

  "Everything important is in my bag. Other than that, it's just a bunch of smelly clothes I can do without."

  "Then you'll be all set. I promise."

  The sniffles came back. "Oh, Lewis, ... thank you, thank you so much."

  "Not a problem. Look. It's late ... why don't you get back to sleep."

  She leaned over and kissed my forehead, and I guess I was a bit stunned at the unexpected attention.

  And if I was just a bit stunned, then, a moment later, I became fully stunned.

  Julia said, with a touch of shy hesitation, "Would ... would you like me to spend some time here with you?"

  I touched her shoulder again. "Any other night, any other time, I'd be honored. But go back downstairs, Julia. It'll be all right. I promise."

  Another whispered "thank you" and she got up, and at my bedroom door she said, "You know. I haven't gotten a good night's sleep since I've been to New Hampshire. He snores and sounds like a washing machine ... and he denies it! Can you believe that? He thinks I'm imagining i
t, night after night."

  "Nights like these," I said, "I can believe almost everything."

  Chapter Twelve

  In the morning I let them loose in my kitchen to fix whatever kind of breakfast suited them, and I shoveled a bit from the front door, and from the sliding door to the shed that served as a garage for my Ford Explorer. The snow wasn't as deep as I had expected, and I knew my Ford would plow us right up and out into the parking lot and Atlantic Avenue with ease.

  I went back into the house, warm from my exertions. James was standing there with Julia, dressed, munching on a piece of toast. It wasn't whole wheat or whole grain or harvested from a cooperative in Baja, California, but I guess hunger trumped politics, at least this morning. I also figured that since James hadn't come out to help me shovel the way clear, he was saving his energies for something more important. Julia looked quiet, shy, and I said, "Ready to leave?"

  "Sure," James said. "Our campaign guy, he's staying at the Redbird Motel, on Cromwell Street. I just called him and he's waiting for us. Can you drop us there?"

  "No problem."

  They joined me outside and in the open garage, James went ahead of Julia and climbed into the front passenger seat. I started up the Explorer and backed out into the snow-covered driveway, and started going up the slight incline. James was talking to Julia about what they were going to do that day, how they would probably have to skip lunch because of the time lost due to last night's snowstorm, and how they would really have to redouble their efforts because the corporate-controlled media and rival campaigns would ---

  "Excuse me for a sec," I said, driving across the street to the Lafayette House, a quick and easy task due to the lack of early morning traffic. "I need to run an errand and then we'll be on our way."

  I parked in an area marked for guest drop-off and I put the Explorer in park, shut the engine off, and said, "Julia? Care to come with me for a moment?"

  "Oh, thanks, I will," she said quickly, and before James could say or do anything, she was outside in the parking lot, and fell in step with me as I went up to the front entrance of the hotel. We went into the lobby and I made a left to the gift shop. Julia leaned into me as we went into the gift shop and said, "Thanks. Thank you very much."